


Clear Blue Skies

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There might not be any marshmallows or drinks with umbrellas, but this was already turning out to be one of John's favorite vacations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the McShep Match challenge community on Livejournal.

John had never been one to subscribe to a fatalistic viewpoint, but the last few months had tested that philosophy, and there was a moment, just a moment, right before he'd nudged the jumper through the wormhole, when he'd thought, _maybe I ought to call this off_. But he hadn't had a single good reason other than I have a feeling, and so he'd shaken off his doubts and the jumper had shot forward under his hands and his brain.

Right into the meteor shower.

“Jesus Christ!” Rodney exclaimed, as alarms John had never heard before started blaring in the cockpit. The first meteor hit the shield with a resounding_ BANG!_ and the second shoved them starboard and the third sapped what was left of their shields. The fourth – well, John really wasn't looking forward to the fourth.

“We need to get out of here now!” Rodney exclaimed, as though John wasn't already jinking left and right and up and down like a catboat in a hurricane, diving for the relative safety of atmosphere as fast as he could.

“Yeah, thanks, you're a lifesaver,” John muttered, hands gripping the controls.

Frantically, Rodney began punching the DHD controls. “Okay, I'm going to shut down the wormhole and then power it up for the return trip. You think you can get us – oh, no.”

John didn't like the sound of that 'oh, no', but he was too busy trying not to die to worry about it. Anyway, he soon figured out the reason for it when he saw the gate go spiraling past them. Obviously knocked out of its orbit by one of the larger meteors, it was now executing a perfect pirouette as it fell toward the planet's surface.

“Planet's habitable, right?” John demanded.

“Yes, it's fine, were you awake for the briefing?”

“Rodney, I swear, when I land this thing – ” And that, of course, was when the fourth meteor hit.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“We're not dead,” Rodney said, wonderingly. “That's really quite surprising.”

“I never had – any doubts,” John murmured, scraping his face off the jumper's console. He took a moment to take stock of the situation. He and Rodney still had all their limbs: check. They retained the power of speech, so no obvious brain damage: check. Despite the massive amounts of water he'd noticed on his way down, they were – he peered out the front window – firmly and securely on dry land: check. He sniffed the air and noted an absence of smells of burning fuels or plastic: check.

Rodney wagged a finger at the windscreen, as though pointing at the meteors that had recently been flying by it. “That – that shouldn't have happened. I don't know why that happened.”

“Well, Rodney,” John drawled, “sometimes there are these things called comets that fly by and release clouds of dust and debris. And then there are these things called asteroids – ”

“Yes, yes, thank you, my point is we sent out a probe three hours before we went through, and there were no meteors. No Wraith activity, no meteors, no pizza delivery vans, no _nothing_. The odds of a meteor shower starting up just as we were going through the gate are so astronomical – ” John smirked “ – oh please, I don't do puns that lame – that it's not even worth considering.”

“Rodney, this is _us _we're talking about.”

Rodney stared at him.

This time, John did a little gesturing at the windscreen, which he couldn't help but notice had a fine, hairline crack in it. “Crap like this happens to us every other week. We drove the bookies out of business a long time ago.” He rose to his feet, ignoring the way several of his vertebrae clicked and clacked against one another.

“Well,” Rodney said, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and massaging the tendons there as he inspected the cockpit, “I suppose we should determine if this thing is flyable.”

“My first guess is no,” John said dryly, pointing at the crack. Rodney leaned forward and squinted, then scowled.

“Oh.” He squinted harder. “It seems to be just the inner pane.”

“That doesn't exactly reassure me. And forgetting that, do you happen to remember the way this ship hit the ground? We'll be lucky if there wasn't more serious structural damage.”

Rodney spun around and bent down to start rummaging in his pack. “Well, why don't you let me be the judge of that, hmmm? I just need to get my diagnostic scanner...”

John sighed, already deeply uninterested. He couldn't explain this to Rodney without sounding like a kook, but right at this moment he really didn’t give a shit if the puddlejumper was salvageable or not. And besides, there was another important point to consider. “Rodney,” he drawled, “even if the jumper was in perfect flying condition, there wouldn't be any point.”

Rodney's eyes widened, remembering. “The gate – ”

“– is probably lying in a million pieces right now, assuming it didn't burn up before it hit the ground.”

Rodney's shoulders slumped.

“Never mind,” John said, giving Rodney's shoulder a brief squeeze. “Suit up. Let's get a look at where we've landed.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“Oh my God, this is better than the Bahamas,” Rodney said.

“Well, it's a little short on drinks with umbrellas in 'em, but it's not bad,” John agreed, hands on his hips as he surveyed the white sand beach. “Not bad at all.”

The temperature was just this side of tropical, without the oppressive humidity to make it uncomfortable, and the scenery was breathtaking. According to Rodney's scanner, they'd landed on an island of about forty square miles, arranged approximately two by twenty in a long, graceful arc. The beach occupied the western side of it, and a rounded ridge, the remnant of ancient mountains, occupied the eastern. The trees were a strange hybrid of tropical and temperate forms, smooth-barked things that looked like oaks with shiny, emerald green leaves reaching heights of over a hundred feet.

“I wonder if there's anything to eat that won't poison us?” Rodney said wistfully, eyeing a tree laden with blue-skinned mango-like fruit.

John took his Randall knife and sliced off a piece, then held it out to Rodney. “One way to find out.”

Rodney sucked in a breath and his mouth opened in pre-bluster mode. “I meant _use the scanner_, Rodney.”

“Oh,” Rodney said, whipping out the device. He waved it over the slice for a moment while the juice dripped over John's fingers, then nodded. “No alkaloids or other harmful substances present. Should be sweet, too.”

“One way to find out,” John repeated, popping the slice between Rodney's parted lips before Rodney could stop him. He felt the drag of Rodney's lower lip as his mouth closed around the fruit, and jerked away. Rodney's eyes goggled, but he didn't spit it out, and after a couple of seconds he started chewing.

Then he closed his eyes and groaned, and John felt his fingertips tingle inexplicably.

“That's – um, that's really quite good,” Rodney sighed, opening his eyes again. John handed over the knife and took off down the beach, looking for something else to do.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Before darkness fell, they had a roaring fire going, over which were roasting several parsnip-like root vegetables and two rotund crustaceans with three claws and (well, up until they started cooking) a nasty disposition. Rodney had done a surprisingly good job hewing wood from the forest and drawing water from a nearby stream, and they'd even had a chance to clean up before dinner.

“The _Daedalus _should be back in Atlantis in about twelve days, and depending on whether Elizabeth diverts them ahead of time, it should be no more than another three to five days after that before they’re here,” Rodney said, between mouthfuls of succulent claw meat. “Oh, oh, this is delicious, even without melted butter.”

John nodded in agreement, his own mouth full. It tasted a lot like lobster, but with a subtle, spicy flavor that made it even better. He could get used to strandings that involved gourmet food and gorgeous beaches.

Smiling, he watched Rodney wolf down his meal with obvious relish. No wonder Rodney had sucked at ascension; he was a true hedonist in every sense of the word, with his love for food (gourmet or not), soft beds and hot showers. He'd be no good at floating from cloud to cloud, contemplating his navel. John pretty much sucked at it too, come to think of it, but he was actually looking forward to the prospect of a couple of weeks of this. They'd earned a vacation.

“I wish there was some way for us to contact them to at least let them know we're all right,” Rodney was saying.

John took a bite of his parsnip – Jesus, that was even better than the lobster. “Yeah, so do I,” he agreed. “But there's nothing we can do about it.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The next day got hot quickly and Rodney started bitching about UV exposure, so John fished one of the Mylar thermal blankets and one of the flotation cushions out of the jumper and spent some time scoping out a suitable location. When he found two trees the right distance apart, he strung up one end of the blanket between them about four feet up, then buried the other end in the sand of the beach. It wouldn't do much for the late afternoon sun, but it would work for the hottest part of the day.

“There you go,” he pronounced with a flourish, “one sun shade.”

Rodney didn't move at first, and when John turned to look at him he realized that Rodney was staring at him with this weird expression on his face. It made his own face heat, and tightened his throat.

“What?” John snapped. “Can't I do something nice for you?”

Rodney jerked as though he’d been doused with cold water. “Yes, certainly you – thank you,” he managed.

Later on, John looked over from where he was sunning himself and saw Rodney was fast asleep under the shade, his body curled like the serene stretch of white sand on which he lay.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

At night, Rodney insisted on sleeping in the jumper, even though there were no signs of large, man-eating animals or bloodsucking bugs. John consented, though he was willing to bet the sand was a lot softer than the benches in the rear compartment, and said so.

One night, he awoke from a bizarre dream in which an ascended Rodney appeared to him like an archangel, blinding white robes billowing around him.

“So what's it like?” John asked.

“There's no blue Jell-O or coffee or Monty Python,” Rodney complained. “The clothes suck. And I hate the Ancients.”

“They don't think you're as smart as they are, do they?”

Rodney sighed. “That, and the women won't give me the time of day.”

“I thought you were supposed to be above such mundane concerns now,” John quipped.

Rodney folded his glowing arms in a gesture that was so familiar John couldn't help but grin. “Well, I'm not.”

“So come back,” John offered, shrugging like it didn't matter to him one way or the other.

“Why should I? It's not like _our _women gave me the time of day, either.”

John opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Come with me,” Rodney blurted.

John frowned. “Wait a minute. You want me to be as bored as you are?”

Rodney looked guilty. “I – well. I thought – that is, that you'd be able to make it – fun.”

John took a step forward. “I can make it fun down here, too,” he murmured.

Rodney did a perfect double-take. “You – really?” he squeaked.

John reached out a hand, but his fingers went right through Rodney's arm. “C'mon. White isn't your color.” He reached out again and was elated when he brushed something more solid this time. “C'mon, Rodney. Come back. I'll make it worth your while.”

“Colonel?”

John started and blinked awake. Rodney had turned on a small battery-powered light in the compartment and was looking down at him, confused.

“What?”

“You were asking me to come back. Come back from where? I've been here all along.”

It was as though one of those cheesy, heavenly beams of light, chorus of angels and all, had just shone down on him. “Yeah, you have,” John said wonderingly, aware he must sound nuts but again, not really giving a shit.

Rodney stared at him for another couple of moments, then nodded. “Well. Um. Good night, then.”

John rolled onto his back and grinned up at the ceiling. “Sweet dreams.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

After promising fifteen times that he would not let Rodney be eaten by predatory fish, John managed to drag him out into the surf for a swim. He wished he'd thought to bring his surfboard along, but then, this had originally been a scientific mission, not a vacation. Maybe the next time they came, they could bring some sports equipment – not to mention butter and marshmallows and a tent – and do this thing right.

John blinked. And it was entirely possible he was going batty in his old age.

Rodney chose that moment to emerge from the surf, spluttering, and John stood watching, his toes curling in the shifting sand, as the water sluiced off him. Even after most of it had run down his body, moisture still clung to his eyelashes, darkening them and clumping them together. Rodney had ridiculously pretty eyelashes for a guy; it wasn't the first time John had noticed them, but it was the first time they had made him want to step forward into Rodney's space, throw an arm around him and reel him in like a trout.

“This is amazing!” Rodney exclaimed, flinging his arms wide like an enthusiastic fifth grader for whom the world was too cool to be defined by mere words.

John did take a step forward then, but Rodney, oblivious, flung him a dazzling grin over his shoulder before diving back into the water. Smiling in spite of his disappointment, John dove in after him.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

After Rodney emerged from the surf and dried off, he swiftly started bitching about the salt and sand covering his skin and making it itch. John's response was to drag him to a spot in the woods he’d discovered on a hike yesterday. Here, the stream from which they took their wash water widened into a deep, clear pool with a small waterfall at one end.

Rodney hesitated for a moment, then picked at the waistband of his boxer shorts, which was what he'd been using for swim trunks. John was certainly not paying attention to the way the wet cotton clung to Rodney’s ass. “Well, I – ”

Taking a deep breath, John stripped off his own shorts and plunged in. Keeping his back turned, he heard Rodney dive in after him a few moments later.

“Oh my _God_, that’s cold!” Rodney gasped, paddling up to John. “You didn’t tell me it was so cold, you bastard.”

John smirked. “Keep swimming. You’ll warm up.” Cupping his palm, he aimed a splash right at Rodney’s face.

“Oh, you – ” Rodney spluttered, returning the favor.

John shook himself like a dog, and then it was on. They were splashing one another like kids, water going everywhere, and one of them – John wasn’t sure who – escalated it to dunking, and the next thing he knew their legs got all tangled up and Rodney’s maniacally grinning face, red-cheeked and panting, was about three inches from John’s nose.

John knew the exact moment Rodney bought a clue; his grin vanished and his face got even redder. He closed his mouth and swallowed, and John realized Rodney’s hands were gripping John’s shoulders, probably in preparation for another dunking.

“Warmer now?” John asked, his voice strange to his own ears. Rodney's eyelashes were even prettier this close up.

Rodney swallowed again, then nodded. “Y-yes, much better.” At that point he seemed to notice where his hands were resting, and yanked them off John’s body like it was red-hot. He kicked away and swam to the water’s edge, then hauled himself out and began drying off.

John tipped his head back, scrubbed the last of the sand out of his hair with his fingers, then moved to join him on the bank. As he stood, dripping and naked, he felt the brief flicker of Rodney’s gaze over his body like the barely-there caress of a summer breeze. He reached for his towel as goosebumps prickled his skin and his heart fluttered in his chest. Part of him wanted to walk right over there and end it all now, but there was a part of him that had almost forgotten what anticipation felt like – at least the anticipation that ended in sex instead of the very real likelihood of painful death – and wanted to savor it a little while longer.

There might not be any marshmallows or drinks with umbrellas, but this was already turning out to be one of John's favorite vacations.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

John supposed it should have bothered him a lot more than it did, this whole 'Hey, I guess suddenly I'm gay' thing. It wasn't that he'd never thought about it before, but he had never been that tempted to transform thought into action. He wasn't entirely sure what made this time different, except that he and Rodney had reached the point where it didn't even seem weird that John was the one he picked to take care of his funeral arrangements. In some ways, that was the most intimate request John had ever been asked to fulfil; anything else they might hopefully do while naked and sweaty would have to go a long way to top that.

Rodney doused the scattered embers with the last bucket of wash water, then walked up to John where he lay on the beach in the dying light. “Well, I guess I'll – uh, turn in,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the jumper.

John propped himself up on an elbow and thought about whether Rodney's mouth would be soft, how Rodney's hands would feel on him. He closed his teeth over his lower lip for a moment, then let it go. “Think I'll sleep out here tonight.”

“You – oh,” Rodney said, and John had to bite his lip again at the look of naked disappointment on Rodney's face. “Well, I – ”

“You could sleep with me. Out here,” he added hastily, when Rodney's eyes widened.

“I don't know if I – ”

“Come on,” John said, smiling. “Sand'll be better for sleeping than those benches.”

Rodney was clearly wavering. “They are – uncomfortable,” he conceded. “All right, I'll – I'll be right back.”

As Rodney scurried off to the jumper, John lay back in the sand and did some more thinking. Unfortunately, by the time Rodney emerged from the jumper with their bedrolls, he hadn't thought of a good excuse for sleeping in close proximity. Rodney handed him his bedroll, then set up his own on the other side of the fire pit, and that was that.

John didn't let it bother him too much. After all, tomorrow was another day; there would be plenty of opportunities then.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Or maybe not.

“Look at this!” Rodney yelled, waving the scanner as John emerged from the water after his morning swim.

John toweled himself off and peered at the screen. “What am I looking at?”

“The results of my latest diagnostic on the jumper! It's not nearly as damaged as we thought.”

John sighed. “I'm not flying in a vacuum with a cracked windshield, Rodney. And even if we could get into space, we've got nowhere to go.”

Rodney's eyes lit up, and John could tell he was biting back a grin. “But we do have somewhere to go.”

John folded his arms. “And where's that?”

Rodney jerked his head toward the jumper. “Come on and I'll show you.” When John hesitated, Rodney tugged at his arm. “Oh, come on.”

As John moved to follow, he resolved to keep an open mind. Maybe Rodney had found a spot that was even prettier than this one.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

John stared at the HUD. “The gate.”

“It survived!” Rodney crowed, gesturing at a glowing blue dot in the top left corner of the display. “And it's sitting on a land mass only a couple of hundred miles away.”

“I don't think we should risk it,” John said firmly.

“We can – wait, what did you say?”

“Listen, we don't even know if this thing is flight-worthy – ”

“I wouldn't say it was if it weren't, especially since we'll be flying over a considerable stretch of water,” Rodney gritted. “In my opinion, which, may I remind you, is an _expert _one – ”

John was suddenly, unreasoningly angry. He felt like a five year old on the verge of a temper tantrum, because he'd been stupid enough to think that he and Rodney were on the same page, here. True, he wasn't exactly sure what the hell that page was, but still, it was a crushing disappointment to discover that Rodney wasn't imagining the possibilities the way John was, that he in fact wanted nothing more than to go home.

“I know you're an expert – as if you'd let me forget it. But I'm not flying this thing until it gets a thorough checkup using all our diagnostic equipment back home. I'm sorry if you hate it here, but you're just going to have to put up with m- with it for a few more days.” While Rodney continued to glare at him, he added, “What position is the gate in, anyway?”

“It’s impossible to tell, but it’s most likely lying flat.”

John threw up his hands. “So even if the wormhole engages, we’d have to fly _straight into the ground_ to test it? No, thanks!”

Rodney raised his chin. “Fine. I wasn’t too keen on that part of the plan, either. I just thought you'd want to at least try to establish radio contact to let them know we're still alive. Isn't it your duty to report in if you can?”

John stiffened, feeling an involuntary twinge of guilt at the accusation. Despite his checkered past with the whole following orders thing, John had only gone AWOL once before in his life. But that had been to save lives, not risk sacrificing them for no good reason. “Rodney, I'm not flying this damned thing so you can go on a wild goose chase when help is on the way.” Rodney opened his mouth. “And neither are you,” John added.

“Fine,” Rodney snapped again. “It's obvious you don't trust my judgment.”

“Believe what you want,” John shot back, turning away. “Just keep your ass on the ground.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

That night, John roasted some fish he'd caught in a makeshift net made of the webbing from the jumper's rear compartment. They weren't as good as the lobster-things, but they weren't bad.

“I don't hate it here,” Rodney said, out of the blue. It was the first thing either of them had said besides 'pass the salt' in half a day.

John shrugged. “Doesn't matter to me. It's not like I'm the social committee of this resort.”

Rodney snorted. “Strangely enough, I can't imagine anyone wanting to build a resort here.”

“I don't know,” John said. He spread his arms wide, encompassing the beach and the waves beyond. “Can't you see the potential? Club Med Pegasus.”

Rodney's hand traced a headline in the air. “'Sun! Surf! Sand! Life-Sucking Alien Vampires!'”

“I think you kind of lost the alliteration there,” John said, grinning.

Rodney glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Sue me.”

“Better.”

Rodney sighed and shook his head. “Eat your fish,” he said, but John could hear the smile hidden in it.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The next day, John tried to make a surfboard.

“You are a crazy person,” Rodney huffed. “You're going to break your neck, and then where will you be?”

“Lying on a beach with a broken neck, I guess,” John drawled. Rodney threw up his hands and stalked off to sit, cross-legged and sulking, under his makeshift parasol.

John spent the better part of the day hacking away at a promising prospect, a huge fallen half-log, with the axe from the tool kit in the back of the jumper, then did the fine-tuning with the machete. By the time Rodney was firing up the barbecue again, he had a workable boogie board.

“I need help peeling parsnips!” Rodney called out.

“Aw, mom, five more minutes,” John whined. He raced out into the water with the board, eager to test it. The waves weren't exactly Pipeline level, but they were fairly decent, and John was keen to try it just once. He watched the waves for a couple of minutes, then rose up on the board in one swift motion, balancing for a single perfect moment as the wave caught him and hurled him forward –

The next thing he knew he was spluttering and staggering in the surf as a strong, solid arm was wrapped around him, keeping him from falling. “Jesus Christ, I _told _you!” The huff of Rodney's breath as he spoke brushed John's ear, and his voice was low and shaken.

John smiled. “You told me,” he agreed. He could have walked without the help, but the water had left him feeling a little chilled and Rodney's arm was doing a great job of warming him up.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

That night, Rodney did move his bedroll next to John's, but it was only so that he could wake John up every couple of hours to make sure he hadn't given himself a concussion. John tried to convince him he hadn't hit his head, but Rodney wasn't convinced. When John awoke with a start in the middle of the night to find Rodney shining a flashlight in his eyes, his face inches from John's, he'd finally had enough.

“For the last time, I'm not brain damaged,” he snapped.

Rodney straightened. “Would you care for a second opinion on that?”

“_Rodney._”

Rodney's face fell in the light spilling from the flashlight. “Look, I just – I don't want anything to happen to you.”

The pit of John's stomach gave way. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching out to grip Rodney's arm, “I'm not going anywhere. I'm fine.” Before he could stop himself, he added, “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either. That’s why I don’t want to take a risk with the jumper, all right? Not because I don’t – ”

“I know,” Rodney blurted, mercifully sparing John further confession. “I figured that out – earlier. You’re right; it would be an unnecessary risk. And I’m sorry I implied that you were – shirking your duty.”

John nodded; that apology meant more to him than he wanted to admit. “I know it doesn’t seem that way sometimes, but I do take my duty seriously, Rodney.”

Rodney looked stricken. “I know you do. You’re – there’s no question of that.”

John patted Rodney’s shoulder before letting go. “Thing is, I’m not so sure. I’ve been enjoying myself a little too much. This is the closest thing to a vacation we’ve had in a long time, and I guess I don’t want it to end too soon.” Wow, there was nothing like the middle of the night for producing confessions you’d never admit in the light of day.

“Oh,” Rodney said softly. “Well, yes, I can – see your point. It’s beautiful here.”

_It’s not just the scenery_, John wanted to say, but that was too much honesty, even for the darkness. Propping himself up on one elbow, he rolled to face Rodney. “Don’t tell me you’ve been having a good time in spite of the sand and the sun and the lobster every other night.”

Rodney snorted, then lay down again, mirroring John's pose. “I know, I know. Look, I've never been much good at sitting around and doing nothing. I've never been much good at – ” he waved a hand “ – the outdoors in general.”

“You never went camping as a kid?”

“All the time. My mother was a card-carrying hippie. She thought we should all commune with Nature with a capital N.”

John smiled. “I take it you weren't much of a communer.”

“Between the pollen allergies and the unerring ability I had to trip and fall in poison ivy every time, no, not so much.” He narrowed his eyes at John's soft chuckle.

“I'm laughing with you, not at you,” John assured him.

“Hm. No doubt you loved the outdoors.”

“I wasn't a Boy Scout, if that's what you mean. But – well, the more time I spent outdoors, the less time I spent home.” Christ, he’d never said that aloud; he didn’t think he’d even gone so far as to work it out in his own head before.

“Oh,” Rodney murmured, nodding. “I – yes. Well, I spent a lot of time in libraries, myself.”

John grinned at him, trying to lighten the mood. “That would explain how you kept your youthful complexion.”

“And how you've acquired those sun lines,” Rodney returned, pointing to the corner of John's eye. John turned into it, and the tips of Rodney's fingers brushed his temple.

John held his breath and froze. Rodney stared at him, but he didn't take his hand away.

“Most people'd call them crow's feet,” John murmured.

“Yes, I – well, I – um. I like them,” Rodney said. It was maybe the stupidest thing John had ever heard come out of Rodney's mouth, and John wanted to hear more.

“Yeah?” John rasped. Some part of his brain was telling him this was nuts, but that wasn't the part of him that was controlling his body, because he was leaning closer to Rodney with every breath.

“I, um,” Rodney managed.

“You said that already,” John breathed against Rodney's mouth. God, if only he’d known it would be this easy – but then, maybe he should have.

“Oh, I, u – ” That was as far as he got before John's lips touched his, lightly at first, then with more serious intent. Rodney released a tiny, soft sigh into John's open mouth, and then he was giving back as good as he got, just like he had in the pool. By the time they finally broke apart, Rodney's hand was cupping the back of John's neck, and John's lips were electrified by the rasp of Rodney's stubble.

“Are you sure you didn't hit your head?” Rodney breathed.

“Never felt better in my life,” John answered, teeth grazing Rodney’s chin.

“This is – oh, God, I thought you were going to kiss me in the pool, and then I convinced myself I was crazy.”

John took Rodney’s earlobe between his lips and sucked, and Rodney groaned. “I thought about kissing you then.”

“I thought about it – oh, yes – too. I might have, um, dreamed about it last night.”

John drew in a startled breath when Rodney’s hand splayed over his chest. “Good dream?”

Rodney nodded, mouth brushing John’s as he moved. “Very good. Spectacular, in fact.”

John ran the tip of his tongue over Rodney's lower lip. “It’ll be pretty hard to beat spectacular.”

“I – um – I'm willing to try if you are,” Rodney managed; grinning like a loon, John kissed him hard and deep as he pushed him down onto the bedroll.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“Wait, wait, that's my elbow.”

“Oh.” John tentatively groped around in the dark until he found his target. “You know, you could've left the flashlight on.”

“And waste valuable batteries? Ow!”

“Sorry.”

“Look, if you'd just move a little to the right – oh, yes, mmmm.”

“That's not your elbow.”

“Nooooo...”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

John woke just as the sun was rising over the water. Sitting cross-legged on the sand, he watched the sky turn from dull grey to an almost fluorescent orange, then looked down at Rodney, who was sleeping the sleep of the well and truly laid.

Now that they'd done it, John couldn't believe they'd spent nearly three years and eight days of a perfectly good vacation _not _doing this. What should have seemed strange and new – the guy-on-guy thing, the fact that the perks of their relationship now included mutual orgasms – seemed familiar, natural. It was as though he'd always woken up beside Rodney with a stupid smile plastered to his face.

Once again, though, Rodney didn't seem to be on the same page, because when the first rays of sunlight smacked him in the face, he snorted awake, blinked a few times, focused on John, and John watched his expression turn from bleary incomprehension through shock straight to a bizarre mixture of embarrassment, anxiety and what looked like terror. The fact that he was trying to hide all of that only made it more ridiculous. John didn't know whether to kiss him or smack him upside the head.

“Good morning,” John said pleasantly, keeping his face perfectly neutral, just for the pleasure of freaking Rodney out further.

“G – good morning,” Rodney stammered. He smiled thinly, then snuck a peek under the blanket.

“Would you like some privacy while you get dressed?” John inquired sweetly.

“No! No, it's only that I – wasn't sure if it was another dream,” Rodney confessed, and the tension that had been building in his gut drained out of John in a rush.

“Nope, it was the real thing,” John assured him.

Rodney broke into a dazzling, guileless smile that made John's heart stutter. “Oh. That's, that's good.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. He hesitated for a moment; if he were with a woman, he'd probably pull her into his arms at this point and get in a little early-morning cuddling, but it seemed like a corny thing to do with Rodney. Besides, he didn't have a clue how to suggest it.

“Would you like to, um – ” Rodney screeched to a halt.

John looked up to see that Rodney's cheeks had turned pink. “Yeah?” he asked.

Rodney licked his lips; John followed the motion helplessly. “Well, it's still fairly early. I was wondering if you'd like to – go back to sleep for a little while?”

“Oh,” John said, deflating again. “Uh, sure.”

Smiling, Rodney lifted up his blanket, inviting John to share. John stared down at him for a moment, taking breadth of his shoulders, the solidity of his arms, and thought, _what the hell_. Lying down again, he settled his head on Rodney's shoulder, then flung an arm across his chest.

Rodney released a startled, soft 'oh', and then his arms encircled John like they'd been doing this for years. John felt Rodney's nose nuzzle into his hair, felt lips brush his forehead, and knew they were finally on the same page.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Later on, John woke Rodney up with a blowjob, or the closest he was able to get to one without an instruction manual. Rodney didn't seem to notice his lack of experience, if his squirming and sighing and moaning and coming was any indication. After that, Rodney disappeared into the woods for most of the afternoon. John swam, collected water from the stream, skewered a couple more lobster, and piled up the wood for the evening’s fire, then sat on the beach and stared at the tree line. He was about to go looking for Rodney when he emerged, grinning and triumphant, with John’s homemade surfboard.

“I modified it,” he explained, turning the board over to show the pair of stabilizers that now protruded from the bottom of the board. “It should be seaworthy. I don't think it's entirely safe, but then no surfboard is.”

John took the board from him and stared at it, uncomprehending. Rodney had carved two nearly matching pieces of wood and fit them snugly into grooves he'd carved in the original board. “How did you join them?”

Rodney hooked a thumb at the jumper. “There was a small tin of epoxy – part of the puncture repair kit on the liferaft – that I figured we could live without. It wasn't as much as I would have liked, but it should hold.”

John could only stare at the board dumbly. Rodney had _fixed his surfboard_, even though he was shit-scared that John was going to use it to crack his skull open. He didn’t know what to do with that; suddenly, every bone in his body turned to soft rubber. Rodney had turned him into a fucking Muppet with one gesture.

“I'm sorry,” Rodney blurted, “I should have – ”

John reached up to cup Rodney's chin with one hand and rubbed a thumb over his lower lip, silencing him. “Thanks,” he rasped, leaning in for a brief, hard kiss.

Rodney nodded, obviously pleased but trying not to show exactly how much. “You're welcome,” he murmured.

“I'm gonna try it, okay?”

Rodney's mouth quirked at the corner. “Okay.”

John took off, his Rodney McKay signature board under his arm, the warmth of Rodney's fond gaze heating him long after the water should have chilled him to the bone.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“That one looks like an elephant.”

“It does not.”

Rodney pointed up at the night sky. “There. That's the body, and that – ” his finger described an arc “ - is the trunk.”

John squinted. “His ass is kind of huge.”

“Yes, because _it's an elephant!_” Rodney exclaimed, exasperated.

John snorted.

“Okay, your turn.”

John scanned the sky, then pointed to a cluster of stars further south. “That's the Millennium Falcon.”

He could practically hear Rodney rolling his eyes. “You're so predictable.”

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Dalek.”

“It did look like a Dalek!”

“Nerd.”

“Dork.”

“Doofus.”

“Kirk.”

John's response to that was to roll over on top of Rodney and knee his way between his legs.

“You're blocking my view.”

“If I'm Kirk, what does that make you?”

“I don't know. Spock?”

John found Rodney's mouth with his own in the darkness. “Kirk and Spock? Really?”

“They were unusually – mmm, do that again – close.”

“Funny how they never made out on the show.”

“Well, Sixties television wasn't as tolerant of free love as one would think. Besides, it was a family program.”

John's hand slid down Rodney's body to find a very interested elbow. “Good thing we don't have to worry about ratings.”

Rodney arched under John's body with a groan. “Damn good.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

After that, the days blurred together, moving too quickly for John's liking, but there wasn't much he could do about it. When Rodney let him know the _Daedalus _could be in range in a few hours, he felt a strong, irrational urge to hide. It was ridiculous, of course; the ship's sensors would pick out the only two human beings on the planet's surface in about five seconds flat. But that didn't stop him from feeling cheated, and more than a little pissed off.

They took turns wearing the radio; neither of them wanted to be suddenly beamed mid-coitus onto the bridge in front of Caldwell. That night, when Rodney decided it would be better if they slept apart, John went ballistic.

“I'm wearing the damned radio,” he gritted.

“Which could be dislodged in the middle of the night.” Rodney paused, obviously aware he was treading on dangerous ground. “You have a tendency to – spoon.”

“I have a tendency to _what_?” John roared.

Rodney flapped his arms, exasperated. “You know what I mean! You're – you're very affectionate!”

“You say that like it's a bad thing!”

“Well, it isn't!” Rodney yelled back. “I lo – it isn't!” He ran a hand through his hair, then began unzipping their bedrolls while John looked on, hands fisted at his sides.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“I hate this.”

John stared up at the night sky. The big-assed elephant was hidden behind a cloud. “If it's any consolation, so do I.”

“It's not,” Rodney said shortly. John sighed and adjusted the earpiece of the radio, then yanked it out. If Caldwell wanted to beam them up, what difference did it make now?

Suddenly, John felt a tickling brush against the fingers of his right hand. At first he wondered if one of the lobster-things had come ashore to seek revenge for the slaughter of its brothers, and then he realized it was Rodney.

Rodney's hand closed over his own, warm and strong. John held his breath, then let it out, slowly, feeling all of his muscles relax for the first time in hours.

“Don't let me fall asleep like this, okay?”

John looked up again; the elephant had reappeared, floating serenely in space, unconcerned about its body image. “Okay.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

After all that, the _Daedalus _showed up two mornings later while they were having breakfast.

John brought his surfboard with him. He carried it under his arm as he walked through the corridors of the ship, feeling like he was holding up a big sign that said_ I fucked Rodney McKay._

It wasn’t as scary – or as liberating – as he’d thought it would be.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Rodney showed up at his door a week after they returned to Atlantis. John was at once angry and crazily grateful, because on the one hand, what the hell had taken Rodney so long, but on the other, he was glad at least one of them had balls.

“So I'm notoriously bad at this, as you no doubt already know,” Rodney said after the door closed, without preamble, “and although I know I should just leave well enough alone, I need it spelled out. We're not doing this any more, are we? That was just – an interlude, right?”

John stared at him. “An 'interlude'?”

Rodney pointed at himself. “Hello, bad at this? Could we just please get this over with?”

John took a step forward. “Do you want it to be over with?”

Rodney flinched. “That's not a fair question.”

“It's an important question.”

Rodney lifted his chin defiantly; John wanted to bite it. “Do you want it to be over?”

“I asked you first.”

Rodney blinked at him, wheels turning, and then John watched his eyes spark into awareness, watched the corner of his mouth tug sideways. “Oh. You're bad at this too, aren't you?”

John resisted the urge to scuff his toe against the floor. “What gave it away?”

Rodney broke into a grin, then reached out and reeled John in like a trout. “Oh, thank God.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Rodney assembled an engineering team and went back to the planet on the _Daedalus_, and after two days of intensive work, they restored the gate and set it upright on the planet's surface. He came back wired and happy, and John kissed him and stripped him and pushed him down onto his bed, and Rodney stared up at him with a humbling reverence as John took him inside for the first time.

The next time they flew through the gate, Rodney brought the marshmallows and the butter, and John brought the tent. After checking in and assuring Elizabeth they weren't dead, they took off their radios and spooned as much as they damn well pleased, and named fourteen new constellations, including the DeLorean, the Dead Parrot, and Batman’s Belt.

This time, though, they skipped the meteors.

**Author's Note:**

> First published August 2007.


End file.
